Tw//
As a child I never wanted to seem girly or pretty
I wanted to be strong and brave like the boys
I wanted to prove I had tough skin...
And so my favourite colour was always red,
When the question was asked.
Red meant fast like lightning McQueen
Or dangerous, like the heated flames of a fire.
But as I grew with age, I changed
I didn't prioritise acting or looking stronger than I was.
I taught myself to do makeup rather than playing with cars
I gossiped with friends rather than throwing a footy
I gave up my incessant need to always wear pants and I bought myself dresses.
Hell, I even liked the frills and glamour.
Now, when the question is asked, my favourite colour is pink.
But like 10 years ago, that answer is still a lie.
Now my younger self would be hurt to find out why my favourite colour is truthfully red.
Why the deep shades of passion and anguish appeal so much to me.
She would be disappointed with the fact that lightning McQueen doesn't cross my mind when I cause the sting of red.
The burning sensation of crimson.
Or the bleed of mahogany.
That fire doesn't cross my mind when I carve the colour into myself
When the output of the shower's labour leaves a bite on my thighs
In fact, all one would see
When they peered into my brain
Is a downwards spiral of nothingness
Stained the colour red.
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!!! This one is a bit more graphic, I have some lighthearted ones ready to post
Even some lovey-dovey content :))
YOU ARE READING
Poetry anthology
PoetryA bunch of angsty poems by a teenage girl trying to stay awake. !! I'll put tw at the start of a poem if needed, Otherwise enjoy my poems, comments are appreciated more than votes cause I love hearing what people think!!
